


When The Colours Fade, All We Have Is Orange

by ironfamjam



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Iron Dad, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), soul crushing angst but it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-20 01:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironfamjam/pseuds/ironfamjam
Summary: Trapped in a reality tinged with orange, Peter watches as Tony unravels.“Stop it.” Peter sounds strangled. “Stop it! I don’t want to see anymore. I can't see him like this stop it!”But Stephen is unrelenting. "Don't you see Peter? Your death destroyed Tony Stark and now Tony will destroy the Titan."





	1. It Would Be Real If It Were Grey

When Peter wakes up, his skin prickles, his hairs shooting up like warning signs. Something’s wrong. But he springs up to see he’s in his bed, in the room he’s lived in his whole life, the same posters lining the wall, the same half-finished hardware project tucked between his wall and his desk, his finished Lego battleship proudly sitting on his shelf. And yet, the goosebumps on his skin throb and he feels the back of his neck tingling. He takes a breath and feels like the world is screaming. 

Peter jumps out of bed, his first thought his aunt’s face. “May!” he yells, slamming the doorknob into the wall in his panic.

The door to the master bedroom is ajar. Peter’s steps slow and something hard coils in his stomach. May’s bed is perfectly made, the corners tucked into the edges like they were in a hotel. There isn’t a single stray notebook or tissue on the side tables, her dresser immaculately free of clutter and stray things. Peter swallows, the oddness of everything amplifying until his anxiety spreads from his stomach to his erratic breathing. May’s always a mess. She’s a mess in the morning, she’s a mess in the evening. She doesn’t believe in making the bed. What was the point if she was just going to ruin it twelve hours later anyway? 

May loves a lived-in place. Peter does too. Proof that they exist. That they have a home somewhere. The clinical tidiness of her room makes it feel like she was never there at all and Peter races back to his own bedroom, slamming the door and falling onto his bed, head between his knees. Just breathe. Just breathe. 

But he can’t suck enough air into his lungs. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Everything looked the same, yet everything was different. Like walking into your room to find everything moved just an inch. Where’s May? What happened to her? Why is Peter even here? What time is it even? What day-

Peter blinks.

His eyes widen into something like horror and his hands shake. Barely able to speak, he tries to gasp out a cry but can’t as he presses his fingers against every part of his skin trying to make sure he’s alive, that he was _whole_ where he was once dust. He remembers disintegrating. He remembers a landscape red like rust and loss. He remembers the faces of every person on that planet with him as they died. He remembers the searing pain in his limbs as they fought to keep together but lost against a force more powerful than he had ever felt. He could feel his bones tremble as they tried to keep him aloft on supports too brittle to stand. He fell into Mr. Stark’s arms and cried about how he didn’t want to die. 

The last thing Peter saw before he turned to dust was Mr. Stark’s face. 

He never wants to see that face. 

He never wants to see that fear ever again. Never wants to see the way his lip trembled in denial, the way his brows creased as his expression crumpled, the way his eyes seemed desperate and resigned all at once. The feeling of failure that leeched off him. 

“I’m sorry.” Peter had said. 

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Why was he sorry? Was he sorry Tony had to see him die and think it was his fault? Was he sorry that he didn’t do enough to save the world? Was he sorry that he couldn’t die a hero like he always thought he would? That instead, he sobbed into his mentor’s neck and begged for him to save him. As though Tony wouldn’t if he could. As though Peter didn’t know that the expression on his face was _why couldn’t it have been me_. 

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, rocking back and forth on his bed. He couldn’t breathe. He died. He died. He died he died hediedhediedhedied. Words repeated over and over lost their meaning, they become sounds that echo in the emptiness of his thoughts and yet- he died he died. If he died, then where is he? He wants to shrink into a ball and disappear. But then he remembers what disappearing actually feels like and wants to vomit. He wants to live. He wants to live. But this wasn’t alive because he felt wrong. He felt less than whole though every part of him was here. But where was here? Where is he in this here but not here?

It’s then that he notices the orange hue in the air. Though the world looks the exact same, it’s imbued with a dewy quality that looks more frightening than beautiful. Peter stares and remembers his trip to Titan, with Tony and the wizard, Dr. Strange. 

“Why did the squid guy want Dr. Strange’s necklace anyway?” Peter asked, still not quite bored at the scenery of space- actual real-life outer _space_ \- but still bored enough that he needed some kind of stimulation, “Not that it isn’t nice or anything. It’s a really cool necklace Mr. Wizard, but you know.” 

Tony raised a brow at him, looking torn between being amused at his antics and heaving a very tired sigh. “That kid,” he said, pointing, “is an Infinity Stone. The Time Stone actually.” 

“An Infinity Stone?” 

“You know, super powerful space rocks. There are six of them. Hey doc, want to show us that little slide show of your again?” 

Stephen rolled his eyes, “Is this really the time?”

“Have anything better to do?” Tony shot back, staring at him until Stephen relented, waving his hands in the air to show images of the stones while Tony narrated, “Anyway there are six of them: Time, Space, Mind, Power, Reality, and Soul. Each one has a different specialty, but they each pack a big enough punch to do some real damage. Remember New York? That was courtesy of the Mind Stone. And Loki. But arguably less of a threat without the scepter.” 

Peter brightened, looking excited as he darted towards Stephen, peering into the necklace. “Can I see it? That’s so cool.”

Stephen sighed. “The stone is not a toy.” He reprimanded, but opened the amulet up anyway to reveal the glowing stone within it.

The green danced in Peter’s eyes as he lit up. “Wow. That’s so cool man, I can’t wait to tell Ned. So, you can like, control time with this thing?” he asked, glancing up.

Stephen nodded. “It’s dangerous to make too many new timelines though. But yes. If I had to.” 

“Mr. Stark did you hear that! He can go back in time! That’s so awesome.” 

Tony cracked a ghost of a smile, “Yeah kid, it’s pretty cool. And also dangerous.” Serious again, Tony fixed Peter with a stare that made him feel like a child. 

“That stone and the rest of them are what Thanos is after. If he manages to get all of them, he’ll become the most powerful person in the universe. We can’t let that happen.” 

Standing straighter, Peter hoped he looked as capable as he wanted to be. “Of course Mr. Stark. We’re going to stop him. No doubt about it.” 

This time, Tony smiled for real, walking over to grip his shoulder. His hand was tight and there was something in his expression, something Peter felt too young to read. Something sad and helpless and achingly desperate. “That’s the spirit.” 

Peter looks around him, in his bedroom, but not bedroom. The Soul Stone is orange. Stephen showed him. Back on that ship. The soul stone is orange and Peter doesn’t know much about it, but if Thanos really did what he wanted to and got rid of half the population, then maybe…maybe they all went into the stone? Is that possible? Is that what the stone did? Keep souls? 

Then maybe Peter’s feeling is right. He’s here, but he isn’t _here_ because he isn’t really alive. He isn’t a body. Just a soul. 

Peter takes another breath. 

This…this is a good thing then. Because that means that…that means that May didn’t…that she didn’t turn to dust like he did. That means she’s alive. Peter’s eyes film over but they refuse to fall as tears. The thought should make him happy. And it does. But he also feels…achingly lonely. Afraid and uncertain. He misses May. He wishes he had said goodbye when he left to school. He wishes he had given her a hug. Kissed her on the cheek. Told her he loved her more than anything and appreciated her more than everything. That she was the best family anyone could ever ask for. 

But he didn’t.

So he’d have to settle for the fact that she’s alive on earth. Probably worried and missing him and- 

Peter clenches his eyes. “I’m sorry May. I’m so sorry.” 

Wrapping his arms tighter around himself, Peter looks around his room and at the orange hued world. All at once, his senses go into overdrive, as though remembering reminded him that he’s superhuman. The orange throbs in his eyes and his ears ring with the cacophony. The world is sobbing. The world is wailing. Looking out his window, he can see people running down the streets shouting people’s names. He can see couples hugging and crying, a woman wearing clothing too big patting her stomach screaming, a child walking aimlessly. Peter swallows. This is hell. This must be hell. Everywhere he looks in this mirror world is pain and despair and loss too big to be contained in one small heart. 

He has to fix this. He has to do something. He can’t just sit here and feel sorry for himself when there were people suffering that he could help. He has to get them out of there. 

He thinks of Tony. Of that look on his face. He thinks of Stephen, with his prediction of only one way to win. He would know what to do. He would know. 

Peter nods to himself, standing on shaky legs. He has to find Stephen. He would know what to do. He would tell Peter what to do. Tony will save them. Peter knows that. He knows that more than he knows anything else in the world. It is the one fact he can count on. Because he saw Tony’s expression when he died. 

Tony had lost everything so many times and had remade the whole entire world to make it right. He would find a way. He would. He had to. But Peter wouldn’t sit here and wait. That wasn’t what Tony would do. Tony would make something from nothing and be the hero he needed to be when no one else could save him. And Peter wants to help him. He needs to. He can’t sit here anymore.

With something almost like purpose, Peter strides out the door and tries not to cry alongside his half of humanity. He wants to help them, but he doesn’t know what he can say. What he can possibly do. He doesn’t even know where to find Stephen. Doesn’t even know the first place to look. So he goes to the one place he knows could help him. He had swung his way to the tower a million times and yet he almost feels like he doesn’t know the way. He doesn’t really have a plan. More like a half-baked idea of asking FRIDAY to help him find the wizard hideaway. But he should have expected that he wouldn’t need to do that. Because when he arrives at the lobby, Stephen is sitting on one of the lounge chairs like he had been waiting for him all this time. 

“Hello Peter.” He says softly and something about the way he says his name shatters the one last bit of strength inside him and Peter starts to cry like he’s dying all over again.

He realizes in that moment, that though Thanos wished him out of existence, it was Stephen’s fault he could. Peter flinches away from Stephen’s hand when he reaches out to touch him. “I-I died.” He chokes, “I died and-and those guardian guys died and even you…even you died. Like we were…like we were nothing. I died and the last thing I saw was Mr. Stark’s face and do you know- do you know what that felt like?” his voice cracks as his watery gaze lock onto Stephen’s.

In his eyes are eons of wisdom and tiredness. But Peter can’t bring himself to be sympathetic. “I’ve never seen him look like that.” he whispers, “He looked broken. I broke him. Everything- we all- I can’t deal with this. I can’t do this. Everything hurts and everything is off and I don’t want to die but I don’t want to be here either and I want to help him save us but why- why would you do that?” he asks, missing so many pieces of himself.

He can still remember the gauntness of Tony’s face when Stephen exchanged the stone for his life. The betrayal. The agony. Tony’s life for the entire universe. Despite everything, Peter understands it. A little. He wonders what he would have done in Stephen’s place. He thinks he knows what Tony would have done. Had their roles been reversed. But he remembers all the crying faces of everyone who died and knows Tony would never understand. Remembers Tony’s face when Peter died and knows Tony would never forgive it. 

“I’m so glad Mr. Stark’s alive. You have no idea how relieved I was that you saved his life. But you gave Thanos the one thing we were trying to protect. You killed Mr. Stark. Even if he isn’t here. Why would you do that?” 

Stephen looks at him strangely. “You remind me of him you know. I can see why he’s so fond of you.” 

“What?”

“Tony. Tony is the key. For humanity to have the tiniest chance of winning. For humanity to have that one in fourteen million chance, the world needs Tony Stark alive. It needs him alive and motivated like he’s never been motivated before.”

There are a thousand words locked in Peter’s throat, but he can’t articulate a single one. What is he saying. What the hell is he saying. 

“Believe me Peter. This was the only way. And I’m sorry you had to go through what you did. You had it harder than most. It should have been a painless passing. But it wasn’t for you.” 

Peter ignores his apologies. “What do you mean this was the only way? Why is Mr. Stark the key? What’s happening over there!”

“The future is now in motion. We can only sit here and wait for it to unfold.” 

Ice freezes Peter’s veins. “What do you mean sit here and wait. We can’t just sit here. They’re busy trying to save the universe and we can’t do anything?!” 

Peter isn’t the type to get angry. Never has been. But this is too unfair. It’s too much for him. He couldn’t do this anymore. How much more disappointment could a person handle before they shattered? “I can’t sit here and not do something. May’s counting on me. Ned’s counting on me. Mr. Stark _needs_ me-”

“You’re not alive Peter.” It’s not harsh, but it’s not kind either and Peter stops mid-sentence, staggering. “You can’t do anything from here. Even the best I can do is just observe. But I can’t interfere.” 

Everything Stephen has said to him right then becomes meaningless when Peter registers the only important part. “You can…you can see them? Everyone alive? You can see them?” his heart beat thuds in his ears. 

Stephen only has to nod ever so slightly for Peter to run right into his personal space, “Show me May. Show me her please. I need to see her.” He grabs at Stephen’s lapel, his fingers squeezing into the fabric. “And Mr. Stark. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

Stephen stares at him impassive, and Peter’s voice breaks, “Please.” 

“I can’t do this often.” he finally says. “It takes too much energy. I might rupture something in this new reality.” 

“Just this once then. I won’t ask again.” 

Stephen uncurls Peter’s hands from his shirt gently, stepping back and closing his eyes. “I can’t control what I show you. It’ll just be snippets of reality.” 

Peter doesn’t care. He’ll take anything he can get. Anything. 

Stephen mutters something under his breath, something melodic and slow, twisting his hands until a semi-circle tinged with golden sparks appears. It’s his and May’s apartment. May’s sitting in front of the TV, tear tracks across her face, her cellphone clutched tightly in her hand. The TV’s on but it’s only displaying an emergency alert. May keeps checking her ringer to see if it’s on, keeps flicking through her messages, Peter can just make out his name at the top of the chat. May bites her lip, hesitates, then dials his number one more time. 

Peter’s heart cracks as he sees her press the phone against her ear, shutting her eyes and murmuring under her breath, “Please Peter, please please pick up. Please. Just do this one thing for me please.” 

But the dial tone rings empty in her ear and she cries harder. Peter presses his hand against the portal but it has the touch of glass and he wants to cry with her but he doesn’t have the energy. He only feels the gaping sadness. “May.” He whispers. 

He watches her cry a little more before a hard knock interrupts the silence. May jumps up, sprinting to the door, looking so hopeful Peter wants to scream. “Pet-!” May stops.

Tony Stark walks through the door looking ripped to pieces. Peter’s hands fly to his mouth. He looks like a corpse. Like everyone who died took every important part of him with them. He’s thinner. Dark circles under his eyes and a limp on his left side where he was stabbed. “You stayed.” He says softly, like he’s sad for her. 

Still shocked over his appearance, May reaches out to touch him, grabbing his arms. “Tony- Tony, where’s Peter. Please tell me where he is. He’s alive right? He’s with you isn’t he? I saw the news. Spiderman followed Iron Man into space. You have him…don’t you?”

Pain floods into Tony’s eyes like it’ll never stop and May shakes her head, pulling away from him. She won’t believe it. She won’t. “I’m sorry May.” Tony says, quieter than Peter’s ever heard him. “I’m sorry.” 

“No.” May shakes her head again. “No. He didn’t…he didn’t disappear. He’s still alive he’s just, somewhere else, he isn’t- he couldn’t-”

May shakes and Tony looks like he’ll fall right down with her. “He disappeared right in front of me. Right in my arms. I held him when he was dying and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do one fucking thing when that kid begged me to save him. I couldn’t save him May. It’s my fault.”

He looks at her like he wants her to hit him. 

Peter wants to scream. He bangs against the glass, wishing he could be stronger than magic, stronger than the universe, so he could yell that he was right there. That he wasn’t dead. That he could see them. That it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Please don’t hurt yourselves anymore.

May still isn’t saying anything, she’s frozen and in her silence, Tony keeps talking like he can aggravate her enough to action. “I told him not to come. I sent him home. But that kid is like a leech he just sticks around and when I saw him on that ship after sneaking on- you can’t imagine what I felt. But I didn’t turn us around. I kept going to that stupid planet because I actually thought we could take him down before he took us all out.”

“What- what are you talking about.” 

May’s voice rings hollow, but she knows that if she doesn’t hear the story then she’ll just die in this very apartment because her baby is dead and she wasn’t there to save him. 

“Thanos. This big alien motherfucker who decided he wanted to kill half the universe.” Wisps of anger pump life back into him, his voice rising with every word. 

May’s lip trembles. 

“We went to go stop him before he collected all the Infinity Stones he needed to kill half the fucking universe. And you know what the worst part is? We almost had him.” Tony’s had curls into a fist. “We almost had him and we wouldn’t have ever gotten that close without Peter and that’s what kills me. That if he had never come then we would’ve lost sooner but we lost anyway and the one guy who had the one stone Thanos needed gave it to him. Just like that. Just to save my life. _My_ life. As though I wouldn’t have traded it in a heartbeat if it meant he’d get to live. I lived so that Peter could die. He begged me to save him. And all I could do was hold him as he disappeared right between my fingers knowing it was my fault.” 

May still won’t speak.

“I did everything I could. I did every fucking thing I could and it still wasn’t enough. I barely got in a scratch.” Tiny tears traced his cheekbones as he shook. “It’s my fault May. It’s all my fault. You should hate me. I killed him. I killed Peter.” 

And Peter feels like he’s dying all over again. 

May wipes at her face roughly, her shoulders shaking. “Stop it.” She whispers harshly, “Stop it- just stop it. It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see it doesn’t matter? He’s gone. It doesn’t matter whose fault it was and who did what.” She’s angry and bitter but behind it all is an abyss of grief that plunges to her depths. 

“You didn’t kill him.” Tony stares, looking like he wants to speak but May cuts him off, “I want to hate you.” Her voice is low and hard but her expression looks one second away from tears, “I want to hate you just on principle. The superhero Peter always adored. The superhero he wanted to be like. The superhero he loved enough to go into space for.” She laughs but there’s no humor in it. 

But she looks at him with compassion and Tony knows in that moment that there will never be a woman like May Parker. “But I know you love him. I know we both love him.” Her eyes shine, her voice raw. 

Tony looks at her in disbelief. 

“May-”

“He’s gone and we loved him and it wasn’t enough-”

Tony catches her as she falls to the ground. 

Tony clutches her to his chest, rocking her back and forth. Her wailing drives up the heat inside him. He won’t let this be the end. He won’t let it. May Parker deserves better than this. Peter Parker deserved everything and anything but this. “I’m going to kill him May. I swear I’m going to kill him. For Peter.” 

May pushes away from him, “What good will that do? What good will that do!! I want Peter back! I want my kid!”

And for the first time since Peter died in his arms, Tony feels something stronger than grief in his veins. “If Thanos is dead I can bring him back.” His voice takes on that crazy edge to it, the kind where he’s onto something groundbreaking the world wouldn’t approve of, that they wouldn’t understand. “I can use the gauntlet, those same stones that destroyed everything can bring him back. They have to. There’s no other way.”

“I can save him. I can still save him.” 

May stops crying, something as dangerous as hope in her eyes. “Tony, don’t- don’t do this to me. I can’t.” 

“Why wouldn’t they be able to bring him back? What’s the point of being the most powerful thing in the universe if it can’t bring back one kid?” Tony insists, sounding so certain he could erode down mountains. 

May looks up at him and Tony softens. “It’s my fault this happened. And I’m not going to stop until I fix it. Thanos is going to regret taking the wrong life.” He stands up, tall and strong, and in the slope of his back, Peter sees a hero. 

The glass swirls and it’s replaced by an image of May. She’s in the hospital, determination set in the curve of her brow and the way she moves; like the earth will fall to pieces if she stops. She’s rushing from room to room, treating injury after injury. Peter’s heart swells with love. At the heart that’s so big inside his aunt. May might not have superpowers, but she could still save people, in a way that was just hers. 

She strides into a room holding an IV bag. She greets the patient, a young girl with long dark hair covering most of her face. “Hey sweetie. How you feeling?” 

“Does it matter?” the girl responds.

“Of course it does.” May says, like it’s an undeniable truth.

The girl pins her with an angry stare. “You’ve seen the news. Half the world is dead. And the other half is either injured or in grief. What does it matter if I’m one more person who’s dead?” 

“It matters. Because we need to be the ones to rebuild the world and bring it back to normal for when the other half comes back.” 

The girl recoils like she’s been slapped. “What the hell are you talking about.” 

“They’re going to come back.” May says firmly, daring the girl to contradict her. “They’re going to bring them back.”

“Who? The Avengers? They’re the ones who lost in the first place.” She glares.

“They’ll win this time. Now that they know what they’re losing. They’re going to win.” 

Peter wishes he could bask in the warmth of May’s faith. 

The scene changes again and Peter feels something like trepidation. It’s dark. An ominous green glow reflecting the inside of what looks like a ship. A space ship, if the galaxies swirling behind the window are any indication. Peter swallows before his breath catches in his throat at the sight of Tony slumped over in the corner, face sallow and so close to death he could taste it. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter whispers.

He looks half conscious, head lolling around before he suddenly sits up straight, staring right into Peter’s eyes. Peter straightens, heart hammering in his throat. Could he see him? Could Tony see him? “Mr. Stark-”

“Peter?”

Peter wants to explode, his fingers slide across the glass, his face a desperate mess. “Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark I’m right here I’m-”

“He can’t see you.” Stephen cuts in, looking pained.

“What do you mean he can’t see me? He just said my name. He’s looking right at me.” Peter yelled, feeling defensive and burdened all at once.

“He’s dehydrated. Look at him. He hasn’t eaten or drank anything in what must be days. He’s hallucinating.”

“W-what.” Peter shook his head, “No. You’re wrong. That’s…that’s-”

But Tony groans, trying to crawl on unstable limbs. “Peter. You’re alive. How can you be alive? I saw you die. I saw-”

Tony flinches, shirking back until his head hits the wall but he doesn’t even wince, his face too contorted in a pain Peter can’t see. “Peter stop. Please.”

Tony covers his ears with hands, rocking back and forth. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter bangs against the glass. “Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Please! I’m right here! I’m right here!!” 

But Tony’s deaf to his cries and he keeps rocking. “I know it’s my fault. I know. I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. You should hate me. I know you do, I know.”

“I’m going to fix this. I’m going to bring you back. You’ll get the life you deserve.”

“Of course I can do it- I’m- I’m Iron Man I can-” Tony tries to sound confident, his voice pitchy with fake optimism but his face suddenly pales, his head dropping, “No, you’re right. If I could have saved you I would’ve already done it.” 

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Stop it I’m right here and I don’t blame you! I don’t blame you! You did your best and you’re going to find a way to bring us back! Please! Please!” 

But Tony keeps going, staring at his hallucination, pleading, unaware he was breaking the real Peter’s heart. “No. No I never wanted this to happen. You know I would have chosen you over me. You know I would have. If I could die to bring you back I’d do it in a heart beat.” 

Something shatters in Tony’s eyes. “Stop it kid. Don’t say that- don’t-”

“No. I wish I could have saved you. I wish I didn’t let you die. No wait- don’t!” Tony’s hand lunges out but it falls in the air and he grabs it close to himself, trembling. 

“Come back please come back. Say whatever you want- hate me if you want just be alive don’t- don’t do this again.” His fingers caress the air like he’s running it through Peter’s hair, “I know you don’t want to go, I know.” He mourns, “I would save you if I could- I would.”

He moans. “No. No-”

“There’s so much dust there’s so much dust oh my God. Peter Peter Peter.” 

“Stop it.” Peter sounds strangled. “Stop it. I don’t want to see anymore.” 

Stephen doesn’t move, stuck watching Tony fall apart in an illusion of his own making. “I said close it!” 

The image of Tony vanishes. Peter feels the tears drip over his cheeks before he registers he’s crying. Stephen looks at him gravely. “Do you see now Peter? Do you understand now? Why everything had to play out as it did? As much as it pained me, trading the stone for Tony’s life was the only way.” He gestured to where the portal once was, “I saw fourteen million different scenarios and the one in which you die in Tony’s arms is the one that spurs him on a quest that will unite the Avengers, new and old together, and undo what has been done.” 

He looks at Peter, his gaze serious and oddly gentle, “For you Peter, Tony will tear apart the universe.” 

And Peter thinks about the way Tony’s voice broke when he told May the truth. Thinks about how he swore he’d avenge Peter’s death and bring him back. Not the world’s death, not the 50% who died. Him. Peter Parker. The entire world was in disarray and all Tony could see was Peter’s face. 

Peter was loved more than he knew. He was so loved and he hated himself. How much time had he wasted not appreciating that? Did he appreciate working in the lab side by side with him over countless projects and suits enough? Did he appreciate Tony checking in with a quick phone chat every now and again enough? Did he appreciate every safety feature crammed into his suit as though Tony could make him immortal enough? Tony had done so much for him. He meant so much to him. And Peter never knew the extent of it, never saw past the exterior of holding him off at a distance to know that Tony was more attached than he let on. 

He had wasted so much time. He had wasted so many opportunities. He wished he could go back. He wished he could tell him he was grateful for everything Tony had done. That he was the best mentor. That he looked out for him like no one but his aunt and uncle had. That the expression on his face broke his heart and that when he died, Tony’s arms wrapped around him were his only comfort. 

Instead, Peter suffered in a dimension stained orange watching as his mentor destroyed himself to bring back the son he left behind.


	2. Love Is In The Colour of Their Eyes

Peter tries to keep his promise. He swears he tries. But the inside of the Soul Stone is stagnant. They aren’t dead, but they’re not alive either. Without a body, they had lost their primal impulses and it kept them immobile, trapped in their own grief. Living took time, going to sleep, waking up, pouring a glass of water, eating a meal. For the living dead, time stretches until it turns meaningless. What are hours and months in a world without a sun or change. In the nothingness of eternity, Peter loses his mind. 

To try and fill the emptiness, he tries to console the unconsolable. There are weeping children and adults with vacant expressions. But he tries to speak and can’t find a single word. He doesn’t have any answers. He doesn’t even have it in him to be compassionate. He is just as barren as the world around him. Admitting that makes him feel worse. He tries to talk to the woman living in the apartment beneath him, who died and left behind her husband, a pre-schooler daughter and a baby boy, but his mind wanders and wanders. Every time he tries to focus, he remembers Tony and his waiting to be bride. Every time he tries to comfort a stranger, he sees the expression on Tony’s face as he pleads with his hallucination to not leave him. The shattering of Tony Stark consumes his every thought and he knows he can’t, he knows he promised, but he can’t bear to be in the dark any more. He can’t bear the thought of Tony going through saving the world alone and while he can’t be there with him, the least he could do is stand witness to his efforts. 

It’s driving Peter crazy, not knowing how Tony’s doing. If his newfound determination to save him after his talk with May gave him strength or debilitated him with anxiety and fear of failing. Tony hated to fail. He hated it most when his failures rippled into anyone else’s life. He didn’t like to talk about it much, but it wasn’t hard to see that Tony always felt like a failure because his father always told him he was. Some people’s words are too heavy to shake off. They shackle us to our insecurities and grow with time; the foundational roots every other critique feeds on. Tony thought he was a failure and Peter wished he had told him he was everything he thought a hero could be. 

That Tony is a solution. 

There’s never been a single problem Tony hadn’t been able to solve with just his hands and his mind. Peter could never understand, how someone millions looked up to as their hero could think so little of all his accomplishments. A familiar guilt pools in his stomach and Peter closes his eyes. He wishes he had told him. Why don’t we ever say the important things? Why didn’t he tell him that no matter what he thought, Tony never failed him? Why didn’t he ever tell him that he was proud of his learning curve, that after the Toomes incident, Tony had gotten better with communication and praise and everything that made a mentor meaningful. He should have told him that he was a great mentor. The absolute best. 

Peter wishes he could tell him not to blame himself over his death. 

But that’s a battle he knows he’ll never win and it’s a battle he isn’t supposed to win either- if Stephen’s words were anything to go by. Mostly, he just wishes he was there with him, helping him save the world so he didn’t have to do it alone. By now, Peter knows which Avengers didn’t survive. He’s seen Sam and Wanda at the Tower, lost souls with nowhere to go. He’s seen that guy too, the one with the metal arm…the one they call the Winter Soldier. So, the rest of them must still be alive, but Peter doesn’t know if that’s a positive or not. 

After the fight in the airport, the Rogues became fugitives and Tony never spoke of them. Whenever they came up, his eyes would crinkle ever so imperceptibly, the one tiny hint of his loss. Peter never liked seeing that expression, the regret and the sadness, so he stopped asking. But now that everyone was gone, the Avengers were all Tony had left as allies to fight for the end of the world. 

Peter grit his teeth. Why was he here? He should be on Earth helping Tony and saving the world. He should be doing something _useful_ instead of sitting here crying all the goddamn time. Fuck when would he stop crying. When would this _end_. Time stopped meaning anything, but he still feels it in his bones and in the drain on his soul and when would this be over he wants to go _home_ he wants to go home he wants to go home. He misses May and the way her hair would tickle his face when he hugged her. He misses Ned and his warm smile and genuine joy of life. He misses Happy and his one-liners. He misses Tony. 

Peter rocks back and forth. He shouldn’t go. He shouldn’t go. But he can’t help it. He can’t do this anymore. He needs to know. He needs to see. And he knows he doesn’t deserve special treatment. Everyone here would kill to see their loved ones again. But Tony is falling apart for him and he’s probably running himself to death trying to save him and Peter needs to be there. He needs to be there. 

He walks into the Sanctum, having long since found Stephen’s hiding spot and waits for the wizard to become aware of his presence. It’s only another minute or two before Stephen appears in front of him as though from thin air with a blank expression. “Hello Peter.” 

Peter is long past politeness and pleasantries. It’s the end of the world. Things like that don’t matter anymore. “I know I promised that would be the only time. But I need to see the rest. I need to know that he’s not killing himself for me.” 

“I can answer that for you without having to open a single portal.” Stephen replies and even though Peter knows it’s true, he can’t help the flare of defensive anger.

“Please,” he grits out instead, “I don’t have anything to give you or anything else to say that’ll be convincing. I just need to see him…so that when I come back, when he brings us back,” and he glares up at Stephen as though daring him to defy him though he knows he wouldn’t, “I want to know exactly what happened so he can’t lie and make it sound better than it was.” 

With a hint of a smile, “Yes, that sounds like something he would do.” 

And the reluctant fondness in his eyes gives Peter pause. “You didn’t like him at first, why are you being so nice about him now?” 

Stephen shrugs, “You can’t watch a person suffer in fourteen million ways while consistently doing everything in their power to prevent the suffering of every other person except himself and not feel some sort of respect. Stark might be a smartass when he wants to be, insufferable from what I saw, but I can admire a person dedicated to humanity.” 

“Yeah. Well. Yeah- Mr. Stark’s a great superhero. The best superhero.” Peter says begrudgingly.

They stand there for a moment before Peter pushes again, “Will you show me him?” 

Stephen lets out a breath. “We can’t keep doing this.” 

“I can’t help it.” Peter says, quiet and honest and hating himself, “I can’t think about anything else. I don’t think my anxiety’s dialled down once since I woke up here.” He confesses.

“Watching your mentor work himself to the bone won’t help you with that.” Stephen says, though not unkindly.

“Can’t make it worse.” Peter tries to joke, though they both know that’s far from true.

Stephen looks at him and sighs, moving his hands quickly and reciting the mantra from before. The glass-like portal opens up again and Peter rushes to it, pressing his body against it as though it would bring him closer. The Avengers are all in a conference room, Peter wants to say it’s the compound though he isn’t certain. Clint stands near the door, looking brooding and dark, an off-putting bloodlust shrieking within him. Natasha sits near him, looking almost nervous. Next to her, a blonde woman Peter doesn’t know assesses everyone else in the room. To the other end of the room, Bruce and Thor sit together, looking over some complicated looking charts. Rhodey is pulling something up on a projector while Steve is staring right at Tony, who’s sitting at the front of the conference desk, looking like a drowned man pulled straight out of an ocean. 

Bruce looks up, his mouth pulled in a nervous line, “I’m not sure it’s a great idea for you to be out of Med Bay Tony. You were practically comatose when Carol brought you to us, you need to rest.” 

Tony shook his head, “I’m fine. There’s someone I need to see to tell her-” Tony breaks off and Peter knows instantly he means May, “I can’t wait anymore.” 

Clint scoffs and Natasha shoots him a look that was almost entreating. Taking control of the room, Steve leans in closer, “Tony, I know this must be exhausting for you, but we need to know what happened. When we saw the news report, we- I-” Steve breaks off, “What made you go into space?” Steve asks, unable to continue his first thought. 

Tony turns his face and Peter feels his stomach clench at the hollowness of his cheeks. “Does it matter? I went to space to save the world and we lost anyway.” he flashes a sardonic smile and Steve flinches, “We went to go save a wizard with a necklace that, coincidentally, had the Time Stone in it, who knew. Then one thing led to another and we ended up on a dead planet with some aliens to fight a genocidal freak on his own turf. And we lost.” he whispers, like it kills him to say it. 

He recounts the story of Titan and Peter can tell it’s rehearsed, that he’s done this so many times he’s immune to the pain. He’s checked out of his own life. It was probably the only way he could bear to say the words. 

Across the room, Clint nearly vibrates with rage. “What did you just say?” he grits out, voice so low even Peter has to strain to hear him.

Tony’s head rolls up and he looks like a man resigned to a hanging. “Strange gave the Time Stone up to save my life.” he repeats, with that same gaunt expression. 

Clint storms to Tony’s end of the table, smashing his hands into the wood so it booms. Tony doesn’t flinch. “You’re telling me, that you let _half the fucking universe_ , my fucking _kids_ and wife die a meaningless death to save your own fucking life? You’re supposed to be an Avenger, how could you let him do that?”

Tony stares at him blankly. Mostly, he just looks tired. Like Clint’s words are just a previously unspoken truth. Peter wants to scream. Of course Tony wouldn’t fucking care. Of course he wouldn’t even blink a goddamn eye. Tony rocked himself back and forth clutching the dust of Peter’s ashes on his fingers thinking it was all his fault. Wishing it was him instead. When Stephen gave Thanos the stone Tony looked like he had just died anyway. Peter clenches his jaw, the urge to punch something until it exploded ricocheting through his body. 

“What nothing to say? The great Tony Stark’s finally speechless huh? Did you beg for him to save your life? Were you just hoping that the ones down here would do something about the other stones? Was that your genius plan Tony?” Clint pushes, his fingers gripping the table edge so tight his knuckles went white.

Tony still won’t say anything but Rhodey steps behind his friend, his expression fierce. Peter swallows. He’s never seen Rhodey look anything like that. His brows furrowed into dark lines across his face, a perfectly contained rage simmering just underneath the surface the way only a man with military diligence could do. “Watch it Barton, or things are going to get messy.” he warns, voice low like the rumble of tanks in a war. 

“What? You didn’t lose anyone either so you’re going to act like this isn’t a big deal? Just another one of Tony Stark’s mistakes you have to clean up?” Clint sneers.

Rhodey snaps his neck up, pinning Clint with a deadly glare, “I lost my mother and I might as well have lost my dad too. My military commander? He’s gone too. Six of my subordinates from my squadron who I was supposed to protect? Dead. That’s not even counting the acquaintances and college friends and neighbours. Half the universe died. You really think our entire world is contained to just this room?” he takes a step closer, pushing back his shoulders, “Tell me how it’s Tony’s responsibility to make someone else’s choice. You heard what he said. Strange said he saw the future and only saw _one_ possibility where we win. _One_. And then he saves Tony’s life. What do you think that means exactly?” 

Natasha starts to nod slowly. “We need Tony if we’re going to bring everyone back. If Strange did that, he knew he would die too. Why would he choose to die and kill half the universe if he didn’t think keeping Tony alive was the way to win the one chance we have.”

But Clint’s grief gives his rage an infinite fuel supply. “Do you think I care at all about what some two-bit magic man has to say? The fact is, if he hadn’t given up the stone, we wouldn’t be here.” 

“The Sorcerer Supreme is not just some magic man.” Thor says, his voice uncharacteristically demure, like a storm in its last stages, “He is the protector of the realms from forces you cannot even understand. If what Anthony says is true, then Natasha is right.”

“And let’s not get all high and mighty on everyone. You weren’t even there. I don’t remember a single arrow flying in Wakanda.” Rhodey cuts in, voice cold.

Clint flinches, glowering at him before Natasha reaches out and places a hand on his arm. “Clint. You need to sit down. Half the world is dead.” The reminder sucks the room of its tension, “We need to be thinking about solutions. What happened in the fight doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore except this.” 

Clint rips his arm out of her grip but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Okay. Well, this is a positive then.” Steve says, “We have the team back together and we have a lynchpin,” He nods towards Tony. “and a new Avenger to give us a run for our money.” he tries to smile as he nods at the blonde woman. “Thanks again for rescuing Tony.” 

Carol smirks, “How could I not? That’s Rhodey’s Tony.” 

Rhodey blushes, looking away for a moment to collect himself while the woman grins at him. Steve turns to Tony, concern in his eyes. “Tony? You want to add anything?”

Tony just stares at him. “What do you want me to say Steve?” and the lack of nicknames or snarky commentary sets Peter on edge.

Clint rolls his eyes, “You’re supposed to be this big saviour guy aren’t you? So? What’s your big plan? How will you save us oh great leader?” Clint drawls, bowing exaggeratedly. 

“Clint.” Steve warns, but he’s ignored as Clint keeps staring right at Tony. 

This time, Tony stares right back, some of that usual fire filling him up until he sits upright, chin cocked for a fight. “What do you want me to say Barton huh? What do you WANT from me?”

“I don’t know? A plan to get back my family? A plan to bring back everyone who’s died? Not that you would know what that feels like,” Clint pauses, something malicious in the curve of his mouth, “everyone you love is still alive.”

Tony freezes, a crazed anger dilating his eyes. “I’m going to give you five seconds to take that back before I do something I’ll regret.” 

“Please. Make my day.” Clint taunts, hand reaching for his bow as Tony reaches to tap his reactor. 

“That’s enough!” Steve yells, standing up so abruptly his chair flies into the wall behind him. 

But Tony’s through, he stands too, shaky and weak and furious. “No, no, he wants to fight. I’ll give him a fight. You know why? Because I can’t give you what you want. I can’t give you anything and you know why? Because I don’t KNOW what to do. I don’t FUCKING KNOW.” 

He’s waving his arms wildly now, caught in a rampage that he can’t stop. “Does that make you happy Clint? Does it? The great Tony Stark drowning in his own guilt and failures that he can’t think of anything other than his kid, the kid that he’d been mentoring for two years, the kid who was only on that fucking planet out of _loyalty_ , the kid who begged me not to go, crying that he didn’t want to die while he disappeared in my arms, but not peacefully- no because why would the world be that fucking kind. No. He felt every second of his death. He felt his fucking cells disintegrate one by one because he has superpowers greater than all of yours’- Peter fucking Parker felt every single second while he begged me to save him and you know what I could do?” Tony stopped, his expression collapsing as the coldness of grief extinguished his rage. 

“Nothing.”

Tony’s shoulders shake. “I couldn’t do anything. Not one fucking thing. And guess what? I can’t do anything now either. I don’t care anymore. I can’t care anymore. I did everything I could and what was it good for?”  
His heavy breathing is the only sound in the room but Tony keeps going. “And now I have to go tell his aunt- his only surviving family by the way, that her nephew that I was supposed to protect is dead.” 

Rhodey reaches out to his friend but Tony shakes his head. Instead, he walks straight out the door, shoving Clint’s shoulder with his own. “How about you try coming up with a solution instead of bitching at me all day for a change.” he says bitterly, the door swinging shut behind him. 

The image melts away and when it reappears, Peter knows it’s post-talking to May because despite being the exact same room, Tony’s taking charge, looking firm and determined, caught in a whirlwind of his own making and Peter knows he’s now stuck in a hyperfixation that will only break when he succeeds. 

“Nebula and Rocket sent a message yesterday. They think they’ve found Thanos.” 

Peter watches, something like hope in his heart as Tony grows back into himself, his purpose driving him out of his grief. Trapped in the stone, Peter watches as a splintered team stitches itself back together. And for the first time in a long time, Peter closes his eyes, and prays. 

The scene switches again and it’s Tony and May, they’re still in the compound. This time, Peter’s sure. He recognizes the expansive common room and sleek design. May’s sitting next to Tony, they’re both on the ground, leaning against the couches. They look smaller that way. More vulnerable. 

Peter stares at his aunt and wishes the image would never disappear. May looks healthy. Peter can’t say she looks good, there’s something deflated about her, maybe the slump of her posture or the slowness of her movements. But at least she’s healthy. At least she’s alive. “How’ve you been May? Are you eating okay? Are you getting the stuff I’ve been sending?” Tony asks. 

His voice echoes in the largeness of the room. 

May smiles softly. “I could ask you the same thing. I hear you’ve been holed up in your lab for weeks.” 

“Well every day I spend in there is another day closer to figuring out how to win.” There’s a steely edge to him when he speaks, a cold certainty that not even destiny could break, “Let Carol and Steve argue about the stupid battle plans. I just need to make sure we have the biggest guns.” And like an afterthought, “And a gauntlet.” 

“You’re going to make your own? Why not just use his?”

Tony shakes his head, “Thor said something happened to it. He doesn’t know what. But maybe it wasn’t strong enough for all that power. Maybe it won’t work if we use it again. So, I’m going to make something better.” 

“Of course you will.” May says softly, almost like she’s sad. 

They’re quiet for a moment. Just sitting together. 

“I think about him every day.” Tony says suddenly. 

He won’t look at her, staring firmly at the wall across them instead, but May isn’t looking at him either. 

“Me too.” 

Tony’s fingers tighten around the cuffs of his shirt. “I’m afraid I’ll forget his face.” 

May shakes her head, “You’ll bring him back before that happens. You have to.” She says forcefully. “You made a promise.” 

“I don’t know if I can do it.” Tony whispers and Peter’s heart aches. 

Peter presses his hand against the glass and closes his eyes, wishing they could feel his thoughts, feel his presence. But they carry on, unaware of his existence. 

“You have to do it. And you _will_ do it. You’re Tony Stark. You get yourself into messes and then you fix your way out of them. This is what you do Tony. You fix things.” May ends gently and stares until Tony looks back at her, scornful.

“Then why do I always feel like I’m breaking them?” 

Peter wants to stay in this moment, wants to see them together, but out of his control, the scene changes again. 

It’s Tony, asleep in his lab, face pressed against a concave piece of metal, a hammer just outside his hand’s grip. Pepper walks into the room, looking over-run and sorry. She stands over her fiancé, staring at the expanse of his workshop, her eyes settling on a picture frame, untouched by the chaos of Tony’s innovation. She picks it up, noting the utter lack of dust or grime on the frame, how bright the glass shines. She sets it down after a few beats before gently shaking Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, come to bed with me. You can’t sleep down here again.”

Tony blinks, still woozy from dreaming. “I’m awake…need to…nee’to make suit…” 

Pepper holds onto his arm, “Tony you’ve worked hard enough, let’s just go to sleep. Just for a few hours.” 

“Is’ not enough.” He slurs, trying to move away from her but too sluggish from the sleep deprivation to do it. 

“Tony, come on.” 

But unwilling to listen, Tony jerks back, his hand flying out, hitting the frame and sending it crashing to the floor. The sound startles Tony out of his half-awake state, his eyes widening as he takes in the scattered shards. Pepper’s staring in muted horror as Tony’s hand shakes when he bends to pick up the cracked frame. 

Peter’s overwhelmed with feelings he can’t ever being to describe when he sees his own face in the frame. A picture of him and Tony posing in front of the tower, Tony pulling his typical peace sign and Peter just looking excited to be there. 

“We’ll get a new frame sweetheart, I promise.” Pepper rushes to reassure him but Tony keeps trembling. 

“I broke it Pepper. I broke it and I let him go the first time too and I can’t do anything right. I can’t even make this stupid suit. I can’t do this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. He shouldn’t have let me live. Strange was wrong. He was wrong.” 

The scene changes again before Peter can watch Tony fall apart. 

Peter’s heart aches. It aches and it aches. He presses his hand against the glass but stumbles as the entire world shakes. He rips his eyes away from a world of colour to look around at an orange sky that almost looks like it’s cracking. Peter’s brows furrow, turning to look at Stephen who looks just as confused. But his expression quickly turns to awe, emotion welling in his eyes. “They’re doing it. He did it.” He rushes over to Peter whispering something under his breath until the scenery changes and the sound of fighting blares in Peter’s ears. 

He can barely make anything out, the world around him booming and cracking. The very ground he’s standing on shakes with tremors too big for him to stand still on. “What’s happening? Dr. Strange what’s going on??” 

“The Stone is being overwhelmed. Thanos can’t fight his battle without drawing on its power.”

Fear steals the colour straight from his face. “What do you mean it’s being overwhelmed? What’s going to happen to us??” panic gives his voice an uneven hysteria and Peter’s heart breaks for May and Tony if he dies again, this time for real. 

“If he does this right, everything will be fine.” Stephen says with a surety that almost calms the storm in Peter’s blood. 

But Stephen isn’t even looking at him, so engrossed in the drama playing out in the glass. He seems almost unaware of the chaos around them. Of the orange world collapsing around them. Peter tries to look into the glass with him, but he can’t understand what he’s seeing. There’s flashes of lightening and fiery blasts that look almost like supernovas. He thinks he sees Steve throwing himself into a punch, Clint’s swords glinting in the fading light. There’s Natasha being thrown by the Hulk to drop a barrage of explosives over Thanos’ head before an earthquake rips open the Earth as the Hulk smashes the ground. And in the back, Tony launches a repulsor almost as big as he was, revving it up before it blasts directly into Thanos’ chest. 

The Titan roars. 

It’s just the distraction needed for Nebula to spring up behind him, her two swords slicing into his neck clean through. Thanos’ expression freezes into shock when he dies. His body slumps to the floor. 

The world goes quiet. 

The Avengers breathe heavily, nobody daring to dream that it was over. Nobody daring to hope. But Tony stumbles forward, looking down at Thanos’ body then up to his daughter. “You did it.” 

Steve steps in closer to Tony. “What now? How do we get everyone back?”

Tony reaches out his hand, holding it mid-air until something zooms in their direction. He didn’t have time to finish it. They had found Thanos earlier than expected and he had become aware of their growing power sooner than they wanted to. It was either fight the fight now when he was still weak or give him time to get a better gauntlet. There was no real choice. They couldn’t take that chance. 

Besides, Tony always said, you had to sprint before you could walk. 

The box he coded to come when summoned settles on the ground and he opens it up to reveal a small orb. He double taps it and it expands into an intricate gauntlet that attaches itself over his suit. 

“Stark no.” Thor bursts, rushing to him. “We said we would wield them together. One stone for each of us.” 

“Tony you can’t do this.” Steve commands, taking one step towards him.

Tony cracks a smile, “I was gonna do it your way, but I didn’t want to be too out of character.”

“You’re just a human Tony. You’re not even enhanced. If you use all the stones it’ll kill you. The Guardians could barely hold one and there were five of them.” Natasha insists, but Tony shakes his head.

“This is the only way. I’ve always known this was going to be it. What’s the point of risking all our lives? It needs to be me. It has to be me. This is why Strange saved my life. This has to be the reason. The Stone was given up for me and now I have to give myself up to the Stones.” 

“Tony give me the gauntlet, the Hulk can’t die. We have a better shot than you do. Just give it to me.” Bruce demands, though his shoulders trembles and his authority is the weaker for it. 

But Tony ignores him and strides up to the Stones, glittering innocently in Thanos’ crushed glove. “Tony.” Thor says, and Tony thinks this might be the first time he’s ever called him by that name, “You don’t need to do this.” 

“I’m not letting anyone else die. I’m over that. This is what needs to be done.”

Nebula stares at him, something like sadness in her eyes. “You have my respect Stark.” Tony opens his mouth but she isn’t done. “When you wield the stones…if you could find my sister, I would gladly take her place.” 

Tony nods at her. “You won’t have to trade.” And before anyone else can stop him, he rips each stone out with his armoured hand and lets them shoot into the gauntlet. 

The orange world booms like a sonic wave has blown through them and Peter hunches over howling, hands desperately covering his ears. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t block out the screaming. Tony’s screaming. Peter’s eyes widen, darting up to look back onto Earth but the portal has shattered and the world around them dissolves. Peter feels the fear send the blood pounding in his skull. He’s afraid he’s afraid. He doesn’t want to disappear. Not again. Not like before. But around him, the world loses its substance until he sees his hands fade away. He stares in horror but instead of pain, there’s nothing. Peter gapes. Stephen smiles. “You’re going home Peter. No reason to be afraid.” 

But Peter disappears before he can reply.

He doesn’t feel a thing. 

\-------------------------------------------------

When Peter wakes up, his skin prickles. Something’s different. But when he sits up, he looks and sees the room where he’s lived in his whole life. The same posters lining the wall, the same half-finished hardware projected tucked between his wall and his desk, his finished Lego battleship sitting proudly on his shelf.   
And then he realizes. 

The colours hit him all at once. The blues and the greens and the red of being alive. He jumps out of bed, tears welling in his eyes. He’s home. He’s home he’s home he’s home. His hands touch every part of his body. He’s alive. He’s alive and he’s whole and in the real world full of every real colour. 

He runs out of his bedroom door, yelling his aunt’s name. He sees her in the kitchen, she looks like she’s trying to make a cup of coffee but the mug crashes to the floor as her hands fly to her mouth, tears pouring over her cheeks like they’d never stop. “Peter. Oh my God Peter.” She sobs, tugging him into her so his nose is pressed into her neck and his own tears wet the shoulders of her shirt.

“May.” He gasps, “May I was so scared. I was so scared and I missed you so much and I never said I love you before I left and I love you. I love you so much. I’ll tell you every day now I promise. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I left.” he cries and May hugs him tighter.

“It’s okay baby. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay now.” she strokes his hair, eyes closed in gratefulness. 

Peter’s relishing in her warmth, her real life presence, so solid he could cry, when he freezes. “Wait. Wait how did I wake up here? I saw- I saw them fighting and then they killed Thanos and Mr. Stark used the gauntlet but then he-” Peter pales, “he was screaming.” His voice breaks.

May’s eyes widen, mouth opening in grief.

“May what- what happened to Mr. Stark, what happened to him I need to know. He can’t- he can’t-” but Peter can’t even finish because the thought shatters him beyond repair. 

May holds him tighter, squeezing him as though she could hold him all together but Peter pulls away no matter how hard it is to do it. “I have to find him.” 

May only takes a few seconds before she nods assertively. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

They borrow their neighbour’s car, Mr. Abdulkarim, a gentle old man with a wife who can make the sweetest Arabic sweets Peter’s ever tried. They hug him when they see he’s come back and every touch he gets reminds him he’s alive. They thrust the keys into their hands and wish them good luck. 

The drive is quiet, but every once in a while, May reaches out to hold Peter’s hand or brush her fingers against his face. “I’m so glad you’re back.” she whispers, “I couldn’t bear it anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” he says and wishes his words could mean something.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry. Let’s just be grateful everything’s okay again.” 

Peter’s not sure everything is okay though. He sometimes feels like parts of him are missing even when he sees he’s all there. He looks at the colour orange and feels such an intense aversion it scares him. He thinks about Tony and knows if he’s gone he’ll never be okay again. Not this time. Three times too many…he can’t bear with it anymore. 

They pull up into the compound, the gate broken, swinging pathetically in the wind. They leave the car parked right at the front and Peter punches his fists into the locked doors, clenching his teeth and pushing with everything he has in him. The door rumbles before giving way and Peter runs inside, May hot behind him. “Mr. Stark!” he yells, his voice getting louder and louder in the hopes of reaching him, “Mr. Stark! MR. STARK!” 

Someone turns round the corner, shoulders tensed. Peter skids to a stop, taking in the Winter Soldier’s face. The man softens his stance. “You’re the kid.” he says, “From the airport.”

And Peter doesn’t care about his identity. Not then. Not right now. “Yeah, that’s me. But that’s not important, where’s Mr. Stark?” 

Bucky’s lips pull into something reminiscent of a frown. “He’s not doing too good kid. I don’t think he’d want you to see him like this.” 

But Peter doesn’t hear the rest because all he understands is Tony’s alive. Tony’s alive and he’s here and Peter’s going to see him. He didn’t care how many Avengers he’d have to barrel his way through. “I’m going to see him.” Peter declares, pushing right past him, running in the direction of Med Bay.

May apologizes on his behalf but Bucky shakes his head. “I know the feeling, you better go on after him.”

Peter bursts through the Med Bay doors to see Pepper on her way out holding a tray of empty plates. She startles when she sees him, eyes widening as she rushes to set the tray down to reach him. “Peter?” she says incredulously.

“Hi Miss. Potts.” Peter greets, knowing if Pepper was here, Tony wasn’t far away. “Where’s Mr. Stark? I really need to see him. Please.” 

Pepper’s shock melts into a softness that clenches Peter’s heart. “He’s recovering in that room over there but I don’t know if if…”

“Please Miss. Potts. Please. I need to see him.” he pleads, knowing this was the one person he couldn’t fight his way past. 

That if Pepper said no, he’d have to listen though it would kill every single part of him.   
Pepper reaches out to brush a curl away from his forehead before cupping his cheek. “He never stopped thinking about you, you know.” she looks melancholic, her lip trembling ever so slightly, “This whole time-” she pauses, gathering herself, “this whole time he’s worked so hard, for you. You mean so much to him Peter and I just wanted to say thank you. You brought him so much joy and I don’t think he ever told you.” 

Peter bites his lip, trying to stop himself from giving into the burning behind his eyes. “He means a lot to me too. He means so much-”

“You can go see him.” 

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice, but he gathers her in a quick hug, squeezing her tight to show how thankful he was before dashing down the hall. 

He thinks he should be nervous or even anxious about opening the door. But he doesn’t even think, not even for a second. His hand curls around the knob and he throws it open coming to a standstill as Tony’s shocked expression takes up his whole view.

“Peter?”

Tony looks afraid. Eyes wide and shoulders curled in. Peter’s lip wobbles and he takes in the bruises that mar his face, the gash all along his collar bone dipping down into his chest. He sees the leg bound in a cast and the tubes inserted into his veins. But his heart only breaks when he sees Tony’s left arm. It’s completely scarred, slivers of angry red and white slashing their way across his skin. While his right hand clenches the sheets, Tony’s left doesn’t move, not even a hair’s breadth. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. 

He’s paralyzed. 

“Mr. Stark.” his voice cracks. 

And unable to help himself anymore, Peter throws himself into Tony’s chest, doing his best to avoid pressing too hard, his arms wrapped around his mentor’s neck. He hugs him and his tears run freely but he feels Tony wrap his right arm around him tightly, burying his face into his air. Peter can feel Tony’s shoulders shaking and thinks he might be crying but they’re both falling apart trying to put each other back together again. “You’re alive.” Tony breathes. “Thank God.” 

“You brought me back Mr. Stark. You did it.” Peter smiled, a watery laugh escaping him.

Tony keeps staring at him. “I almost can’t believe you’re real.” he whispers, almost to himself and Peter feels his stomach coil.

“I’m here. I’m alive. You’re here too. You saved me. You saved the world.” 

Tony shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything. I just wished for everyone to return where they disappeared.” he looks at Peter then, “Except for you. I couldn’t stand the thought of having you wake up on that planet alone.” he smiles, though it’s self-deprecating, “And I definitely didn’t want you appearing where I was either.” 

Peter looks at his arm, guilt swirling in his eyes. “Why did you do everything by yourself? Why didn’t you let the other Avengers help you?” he pressed, emotion bursting in every word.

Tony’s brows furrowed, like he was confused. “I had to do it Peter. It was the only way. And how do you even-”

“How can you say that?” Peter burst, “How could you say that? You thought you were going to die, and you still did it anyway.”

Tony looks overwhelmed, guilty and sorry. “Peter,” he says gently, “I had to do it. It was the only way to bring you and everyone else back.”

“It wouldn’t be coming back if you weren’t here.” Peter insists, sincere and true. “I never said it before and I regret it but I- I was stupid and I thought we’d always have time. But I know that we don’t now.” Tony’s breath skips.

But Peter catches his eyes and hopes he can convey what he feels with just these words, “You’re my hero, you always have been. I’ve looked up to you since I was a kid. And these past two years have been incredible. They’re more than I could ever have hoped for. And I- I appreciate you. Everything you do for me. And I care about you. I care about you so don’t say that it wouldn’t have mattered if you died because it would matter! It would matter to me! And to Miss. Potts, and Colonel Rhodes and Happy and May too! It matters because that whole time that I was- that I was stuck in the stone all I could think about was how I left you and May behind and I don’t- I don’t-!” but Peter can’t finish his sentence before Tony is hugging him again, hand curling in his hair.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Peter. I’m sorry.”

But Peter’s shaking his head, “No Mr. Stark you don’t understand, you don’t-”

But Tony’s grip is firm. “I _do_ understand. I do. And I’m going to be better. I swear. But right now, right now…let’s just sit here okay? Let’s just be happy we’re both here.” he strokes Peter’s hair, “I don’t regret my decision. If that was what it would cost to bring you back, I’d pay it a thousand times.” he feels Peter stiffen, “But as it is, I’m glad this worked out the way it did, because I would’ve regretted it if I never got the chance to say you’re the best kid I’ve ever known, the best superhero too. You’ll surpass us all. And I’m proud of you and I’m proud to be your mentor.” 

Peter thinks about what he saw. What he heard. Everything he felt when he experienced the trauma alongside Tony while they were both trapped in different prisons. He knew Tony, knew it would hurt him if Peter told him he watched him go through his worst. But Peter wanted to convey that he knew. That Tony didn’t have to struggle to say the words anymore. Tony Stark was more than I love you’s and pretty affirmations that wore away with time. He was action and care and protection, and his love poured out with everything he did, louder than any declaration could be. Peter sees that now. But he doesn’t know how to say that quite yet. 

“I’m so happy you’re alive Mr. Stark.” 

“Me too kid.” Tony pulls away, giving him a look, “And we’re going to talk about everything that happened to you. I know what went down and that’s got to be a rough ride.” 

Peter looks away. 

“But for now, we can just celebrate you coming back. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.” 

Peter’s heart warms and he sits on the chair next to the gurney, letting his head fall onto the mattress over his crossed arms as Tony runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay. I’d like that.” he says softly. 

They’re quiet, the only sound the heart monitor, but Tony swallows, his fingers hesitating over Peter’s head. “I don’t have a kid of my own. Not yet anyway, been trying to get Pepper in on that,” he tries to laugh, “but…when I think about it, what made me crave being a father was you probably.” he stops, “Okay, definitely. It was definitely you.” 

Peter’s head tilts up, eyes bright even though Tony stares determinately at the wall. “I don’t know what I’m doing right now but what I’m trying to say is that you’re, you’re like the son I never had and if my kids turn up even half as good as you then,” he smiles, a true smile, softer than the rain, “then I can rest happy.”

Peter can’t help the warmth that rushes to his cheeks as he burrows his way closer into Tony’s thigh, hiding his face. “That’s so gushy Mr. Stark.” he teases. 

“Hey! This is me trying to become a better person, don’t sabotage me.” 

“You don’t need to become a better person, I think you’re fine just the way you are.”

Tony pulls on his ear, “And you don’t think _that’s_ gushy?” 

Peter grins, swatting his hand away lightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And for the first time since waking up in the real world, he feels like maybe things really will be alright. 

“But it made me really happy you said that, because I-” Peter breaks off, stammering, “well, because, you know.” He waves his hand lamely in the air. 

Tony laughs, looking freer and better than every other time Peter’s seen him since he died. “It’s okay kid, I know. I know.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------

They have brunch every Sunday.

Tony and Peter see each other often enough throughout the rest of the week. After grasping Peter in his arms in his sickbed, Tony found he couldn’t quite let him go anymore. Sometimes he’d swing by after school and take Peter back home. Other times he’d send a quick voice message demanding Peter’s presence to help him solve a coding bug for a project that was always extremely urgent. Sometimes, Tony would show up at May and Peter’s doorstep looking not all there, a slight tremor in his good arm, and a fidgety sort of quality that had Peter’s stomach clench. They would just sit around each other those days. They didn’t have to talk. Not always. They just had to be there. For each other. 

But no matter what, no matter how many visits, phone calls or text messages, Sunday is always brunch day. Pepper likes the aesthetic of it and May thinks it’s classy. So they stick with it. 

Peter pulls on his socks, stepping back to look at himself in the mirror, making sure his hair isn’t standing up like shocks of weeds and that his shirt is only mildly wrinkled. He’s wearing blue today. Blue jeans and a blue shirt and white socks with a blue stripe down the side. Most of his clothes are cool colours nowadays. One night he had woken up screaming and the first thing he saw was his retro Star Wars poster. 

That poster used to bring him so much joy. 

The space ships zooming across the bright background. The characters staring heroically into the distance. But he looked at the poster and felt such an intense fear it ripped through his skin like barbs and his lungs stopped moving. All he could see was the orange. It was orange. Everything was orange. He was still in the Stone. He had never left. He was trapped. He was trapped. Tony let him down Tony let him down Tony- 

May rushed into the room, gathered him tightly in her arms and soothed him into breathing. After that, they pretended orange didn’t exist. It vanished from their home. And the next time Peter went over to the Tower, he noticed the colour disappeared like it had never existed at all. The shame that coursed through his body was palpable. His eyes watered though he tried desperately to blink them away. He tried thinking of puppies and Ned and the feeling he’d get when he solved a particularly hard physics problem, but the burning behind his eyes wouldn’t fade and slowly the tears trickled traitorously down his cheeks. 

Tony turned around, looking like he already knew what was wrong before he even had to ask. “It’s okay Peter.” He said and he didn’t look gentle. 

He didn’t look gentle or sympathetic or pitying or coaxing. He looked like a man who understood. A man whose words were a fact Peter could never deny and Peter had never denied Tony anything. Peter swallowed, something sad and young and childish bubbling up inside his throat. Unable to stop it, he let out a sob and for the first time since he came back he cried like he had seventeen years of tears to shed. 

Tony’s back shielded him from the world and Peter’s grip around his shoulder blades, strong and mighty and more resilient that even the universe’s destruction, made him feel like he finally had the strength to fall and get back up again. Tony held him silently, but his arm around him was tight and Peter sobbed into his chest until he could only heave dry tears. He kept his face pressed just beside the faint glow of Tony’s reactor and let the light comfort him, like a child scared of the dark. 

Tony ran his hand through Peter’s hair. “It’s called PTSD and we’re going to help you. You’re going to get better. I know, because I’m getting better. It’s going to be hard, sometimes so hard it’s going to seem impossible. But it isn’t. And I won’t let it be. And you’re going to get better. And the real truth is that it’s okay that you’re feeling like this and that this doesn’t make you weaker or any less of a hero or any less of anything.” 

Peter couldn’t find the words, could only burrow his face in closer. But Tony slowly pulled away, keeping his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “I want to hear you say it Peter.” 

His eyes were serious and Peter tried to repeat the words but his mouth felt dry and he remembered the way he felt when he saw the poster and wondered if he would ever be okay ever again. 

The conflict in his eyes ran rampant and Tony stared harder. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Peter declared, instantaneous and obvious.

Tony’s gaze softened and something like adoration of the saddest kind flickered in his eyes. “Then believe me when I tell you that you’re going to be okay.” 

Peter swallowed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were aglow with courage. “I’m going to be okay.” Tony’s stare was meaningful, “And it’s…and it’s okay that I’m not…that I’m not okay. Right now.” He mumbled the end and hoped he could believe it soon. 

He couldn’t quite get over the inadequacy he felt and the feeling of shame at what he thought were infinitely stupid over-reactions. But he wanted to believe in Tony and he wanted to believe in his future and in the happiness he so desperately wanted and still wants. 

Tony books him a therapist after that. Twice a week Happy’ll drive him to a nice office with a warm welcome room filled with fresh flowers and fluffy couches. He sits down with Alya Sabawi and they talk for an hour about whatever’s on his mind. On Thursdays, Happy drives him back down to the apartment. On Sundays, Happy drives him up to the Tower where May’s already there waiting for him to start their regular brunches. 

They sit and they talk and they eat and they laugh sometimes and they tell stories and they’re happy. They try to rebuild their happiness, rebuild their normalness, rebuild their lives that had become inseparably intertwined. Peter has a bubble here. It’s warm and it’s his and it’s cultivated carefully with care and compassion. 

The four of them have finished up, Tony taking the last of the dishes into the kitchen when he notices Peter’s nowhere in sight. Furrowing his brows ever so slightly, Tony dries his hands on the dish towel and walks to where he has no doubt Peter’s snuck away to. His prediction proves true as he sees Peter leaning on the balcony railing, gazing out into the city. 

“Hey kid.” Tony greets, smiling slightly as Peter jumps. 

The kid’s rarely surprised by anything anymore, his senses usually alerting him to anything way in advance. It’s a testament to how deep in thought he was and how much he trusts Tony, down to an instinctive biological level, that Tony had managed to sneak up on him at all. 

Peter’s smile is shaky, “Hey Mr. Stark, what’s up?” 

Tony shrugs, looking exaggeratedly nonchalant. “Oh nothing. Just wondering where my protégé went after eating three quarters his body weight in chicken sandwiches.” 

Peter scrunches his nose, caught between feeling embarrassed or laughing, “Hey! They were good! And if you didn’t want me eating so many you wouldn’t have made so many.” He pointed out.

Tony cocks his head, “That’s fair.” 

He steps beside Peter, looking out into the same view, taking care to keep his voice light and neutral. “Something on your mind?” 

Peter pauses, the wind swirls through his hair before he turns to Tony with such a genuine joy Tony’s heart clenches. “Absolutely nothing.” Peter grins, closing his eyes to feel the breeze on his face, “I’m not thinking about anything.” 

And Tony understands. He understands with everything in him. 

Peter turns to him again, earnest and sincere, “Thank you Mr. Stark. For everything.” And this time, when he hugs his mentor, there aren’t any tears or anxieties or imminent deaths.

He’s just a boy, hugging the man who could’ve been his father, who’s hugging him back, just as tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Major self-indulgent angst and canon divergence. And I really wanted to write Tony hallucinating. Anyway! There'll be more suffering and then, hopefully, the skies will all clear.


End file.
